


Haikyuu Moments

by CottonCharms



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Bonding, Character Death, Childhood Friends, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied Relationships, Light Angst, Marriage, Married Life, Not Really Character Death, Other, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Post-Time Skip, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, blood mention, manager relationships, study dates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28706286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CottonCharms/pseuds/CottonCharms
Summary: A collection of drabbles, one shots or ficlets with various Haikyuu characters.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader, Miya Atsumu/Reader, Miya Osamu/Reader, Ojiro Aran/Reader, Shirabu Kenjirou/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

This series is a compilation of all the writings I have accumulated with various haikyu characters.   
  
You may send in request and hope that it will inspire me to write.


	2. Blueberry Eyes (Timeskip! Kageyama Tobio)

The lost days of a long-distance relationship always start at the bed. 

Tobio’s hands wander as he searches for a significant source of warmth. It was an instinct. An everyday habit made out of the many nights of sleeping by your side and waking-up smothered in between the softness of your chest. At times his face would be buried by the crook of your neck. His chapped morning lips would travel to the soft space of your blemished shoulders, waking you up with a soft yawn escaping your lips.

His favorite position would be spooning you with his hands gliding your warm skin to wrap his toned arms around your stomach. He’d stay there for days if he could, but like clockwork, he left the bed to start up with his morning jog. 

And like clockwork, he’ll return to you after his workout with an apron draped around your form. The crispy smell of sunny side up eggs and bacon makes his breakfast all set, but with an additional salty kiss after finishing your plate, it makes his meal complete.

Though now you were gone. Not dead, but Kageyama feels like he should be. Without your hugs, your warm meals, the sweet hellos, and lingering goodbyes, it made everything a bit more bland and tasteless.

He wracks his brain to search for his phone instead. It was at 5 am. His scheduled morning jog was set aside for a special appointment. 

He will make it up later. He’ll add three- wait, five sets to compensate for his run. For now, he searches for a contact name with three hearts next to their name. 

Kageyama was fine with your name set without endearments. It was clean and didn’t clutter his feed, but you insisted for three- no five hearts with your name. Two in front and three after it. He settled with your request, spoiling you as he should.

His thoughts return, listening to a ring, followed by a cheery laugh, with a sweet hello. 

_“Good morning, Tobio-kun.”_

He returns the hello. His tone, low and sleepy, with a yawn erupting here and there.

_“Still sleepy I hear,”_ he could almost visualize a smirk. _“Do you want to have a wake-up call? Open your video.”_

He does, almost instantly. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he was played at your whims and your request. If it meant seeing you, then he’d beg if he had to. 

Kageyama squints at the flashing brightness of his phone, but it widens in amazement at the view that follows once his eyes adjusted. A strawberry sky, the pinkish hue he compared to sweetened milk with light pink coloring. His mouth was left agape and he subconsciously wiped a possible drool forming.

You laugh again, more teasing in tone. _“My goodness Tobio-kun, it looks exactly like strawberry milk doesn’t it? Sunsets in this country sure are amazing! Do you think it tastes sweet?”_

He opens his mouth to answer, but it hangs as he was left speechless. 

You wore his alders jersey, a replica of his which was suited to your size. Kageyama stutters a compliment before completely phrasing his thoughts into sensible words. 

“Yeah… amazing,” and he didn’t mean the sky


	3. Honey coated lips (Miya Osamu)

There was a dry spell that came with the winter air. Your lips have turned chapped, and it bleeds on each frown and every time you’d smile. Unfortunately, it would occur when the gray-haired twin pleads you to work overtime at his still-on-the-way-to-recognition small-time Onigiri store.

He needed a committed employee, and you needed money before you can continue your college education. It was a win-win since it was work experience and a way to ease your funds minus the scholarships you scavenged.

You sat on one of the single cushioned seats, twirling around, humoring yourself as if you were a customer. There were moments when the two of you were the only occupants of the store, and it might be an intimate scene when he’d always make sure you were safe at home through a text. Though you supposed it was part of his nature to show concern towards the people he worked with, as he does with the other staff. 

These were one of those nights when he offered to take you home in his car. He reasoned that it was due to the frigid snow, but either way, you were glad to cut back on the transportation expenses.

Your attention turned to Osamu as he returns in a more casual get-up with a phone in hand. He wore a thick winter coat over another sweater but you were positive that he still has the onigiri shirt under all the layers of warmth. 

“Is the restaurant secured?” he asked, walking his way to your side by the entrance. You could have sworn his gaze focused on you but you ignored his slight pause. 

“Yeah. I even triple checked it just to be sure, Osamu,” you opened the door to exit the store but you were pulled back in with his hands holding you in place. And with the simple action, the heat was rising to your cheeks.

It was customary to maintain the professional relationship you had with the ex-volleyball player. Even in front of the other employees, your behavior hadn’t changed. You always kept him at arm’s length as the expected boss and subordinate scene would go. 

Although, without the prying eyes of either customers or staff, when the two of you were left alone, the dynamic returns to the casual intimacy you had shared, and the touches sent your ways always seemed more.

Osamu’s grip hasn’t wavered, and his tall demeanor keeping you in place. His thumb slides across your bottom lip as you feel a new texture across your chapped skin. His warmth settled by the space of your cheek, cupping your face, making you immovable from his intense stare. 

“Is there a problem?” you try to break the silence. 

Osamu merely exhales, brushing your hair behind your ear, “your lips are bleeding. Doesn’t it hurt?” 

“My what?” 

“You’re lips so damn dry,” his thumb was still smothering the skin in quaint affection.” Do you have a balm or some ointment for it? It’s been bothering me for a while now.”

“I know but…” you swiped your tongue out, tasting the sweet flavor on your lips. “… why did you have to put honey on it?”

His eyes drift to your plush lips before meeting your eyes once again, “would you rather I put something _else_ on it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lips were freaking chapped and bleeding when I wrote this. I learned that honey can help alleviate the problem.


	4. comfort and healing (Aran Ojiro)

Today is the day you decided to be sad.

The crack of light threatens to enter your dark threshold. You lay idly in your bed, too tired to get out, having no energy to move. No notifications were hitting up your phone ever since you chose to have its battery drained and never to be charged for the day.

In the same way, too drained to function, too exhausted to recompose, you were in desperate need to recharge. However, your ways to heal weren’t as easy as a simple plug from a happy socket. There were no pills to numb out the feeling, no distracting marks to be left behind only to serve as evidence for your slow destruction.

Simple, non-dramatic, barely functioning logic held you through the last remaining pieces of sanity before you break.

_“it’s because you haven’t exercised.” maybe._

_"You’re just having a bad day. Why don’t you eat more?”_ perhaps.

_“Some people have it worse. the fact that you can function normally proves that there is nothing wrong with you.”_ absolutely. nothing wrong. I’m fine.

There were just emotions that threaten to spill. So close, ever a single drop remains to fall before you overflow, but you never do. You feel like you’d break but you aren’t even half close to crash. But for today, _fuck it._ Just for a single day you’d indulge with the mental break and let all your internal battles surge and rise from the deepest crevice of your dark mind. 

“I don’t... I don’t want to be strong anymore!” you poured your frustrations with a simple phrase. “I don’t want to smile! I don’t want to stand! I don’t want to keep up with everything!”

You blew up. There was no one to see you self-destruct. There was no one to be hurt from the by-product of every bitter remorse which rots you to your core. You don’t have to look into the reflection of their pitiful eyes, staring into your soul like a sad dog that should be _put down._

The pain grows from your heavy lungs until it enters your vocal cords, and finally, after so much strain, you hear yourself break. It sounds horrible, like a deep nail digging into a dusty old keyboard. _Dry. Screeching. Painful._

_Ah. So this in pain._ You exhale, so broken and tender, but you have never felt so accepting of something so wretchedly raw. The surroundings invite you to the numbing cold for a deep slumber, a supposed chance to heal.

You close your eyes, evening out your ragged breath into a placid rhythm. In your transfixed state of solitude, there were a set of familiar sounds echoing in the dark background.

_A slide of the door._

_Gentle steps._

_A deep sigh._

You won't catch the invader who threatens to invade your privacy, but you chose to still your eyes instead. You were sad for a day. You didn’t have to be strong. Whoever they were, you didn’t give a fuck.

_See me for what I am. A disappointing ruin. And run._

You register their skin sliding upwards your cheek. A small river pushes back before it bursts and falls to your cold skin, a contrast to the warmth the person radiates. Only now, you realized that you haven’t cried from your early tantrum as a new ache climbs up your throat.

“So many people haven’t handled you with care.” you feel the bed dip down as their presence envelopes you in your weakened state. Though it was never meant to distract, but as a way to accept you as you break. “I’ll be here for you so just let it all out.”

_Ah. So this is comfort._ You cried yourself to sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aran will always be my source of comfort.


	5. touch [Shirabu Kenjiro]

Shirabu Kenjiro seems composed, almost everyone is fooled. They see a respectable, bright young man with a respectful future, yet beneath those out of fashion bangs of his, lies the unearthed soul of salt with an irritable attitude.

The repetitive click of the clock, continuous friction of pencil strokes on paper, your occasional shuffling from one leg to the other, were just some of the things that tick him off. He let out too many sighs to count, and it’s not even thirty minutes since the study session began.

“You seem annoyed -like more than usual- what’s up?” You inquire, your eyes not leaving the talented strokes of the pen on your history assignment. Socio-Political disputes on age-old warlords are easy. Understanding Shirabu was hard.

“Don’t even bother. Just continue with your essay,” Shirabu deadpans, adding another sigh to your tally.

“No. Like seriously, you haven’t moved an inch on that paper. What’s wrong?”

He tunes you out. Grabbing his earphones and placing it snugly on his head. The thump of the song sends vibrations to the air, which was terrible since his hearing might get damaged due to loud volumes. But he acts like he doesn’t care, which was not normal for a health-conscious temperamental brat.

Not satisfied with his lack of answer, you stand up, walk to his side of the table, and just lie at him from behind. You wait for him to speak since he doesn’t say anything at all unless provoked. He didn’t even bat an eye, yet he adjusts so you could properly use him as a resting post.

He removes a single earpiece, “Tell me if you want to lie down or something.” He doesn’t push you away. He doesn’t welcome you either. His head merely bobs up and down at the rhythm of the song and ignored your invasion of his personal space. 

You put together the scattered clues, and some things became clearer with time.

At times, when he is in full concentration mode, he would throw you out of the room. There is no asking for conciliation, no adjustment periods, and no warning for his cold demeanor. But now, he seems more tolerable of you--  _ nicer-- a _ nd the essay was due tomorrow.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, summarizing every detail into the ultimatum of conclusions. He was the type to voice out his unruly demands, but he wasn’t as vocal to reveal the weakness of his needs. Though, if you were to say it out loud, he might throw you out of the room when you reveal his real state of emotional and personal deformation.

This side of him was rather adorable though, minus the throwing out part. But for now, you’ll help him satiate his touch-starved state, even if his pride was too high up to ask you himself.

“Do you want me to hold your free hand?” you mumble, slipping on the earpiece he removed earlier. The song he plays was on the last few beats of a Galdive-- sorbet was the title-- before starting up with mxmtoon. Your lips hum to the tune and you start to mumble out the lyrics, waiting for his answer.

“If you insist,” his fingertips welcomes your smothers in quaint affection. His free hand moves to lower the volume of the song and selects a playlist of chill beats and study music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon for studying with Shirabu:
> 
> > Shirabu on full concentration is highly irritable to anyone.   
> >No exception. Not even to his s/o.   
> >But a touch-deprived, study mode Shirabu is more tolerable.  
> >He won’t say it out loud so you have to figure out his love language.  
> >Studying with him is a team effort. He makes flip card note quizzes on one subject while you do the other.  
> >While waiting for the bell to ring, the both of you will quiz each other when there is a test.  
> >When the both of you go to different colleges and you don't go on study dates anymore, he will have those 'study with me' live youtube as white noise.


	6. something more [miya atsumu]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the "we're neighbors but our balcony overlaps" AU

He hears the sound she makes. Each ruffle, every whimper, and the labored breaths she let out after dropping a hopeless call. Atsumu wonders what kind of problem had unnerved her to react in such a way. As always, he hears the heavy steps that follow, and she escapes the suffocating environment of an enclosed apartment to the fresh breeze of a balcony air.

She drops her shoulders, fisting the rising anger through her hair. “Did you hear that? Was I too loud again?”

“Not loud enough for me to hear everything,” he takes another sip from his can. “What seems to be the problem?”

She walks to the edge of the balcony. Their distance less than a meter away, before letting out a sigh, “I got a promotion.”

“Oh. _Oh._ Congrats. Honestly, I’m happy for you but hmm…” he licks his lips, still mindful of his words, “…but you don’t seem happy about it? Ah, yeah. You don’t seem too pleased?”

At his reaction, she smiles. A genuine one he notices. And not the smile she gives to the neighbors or the college friends she hangs out with at seven-eleven. This one was small, showing crooked teeth, but the eerie laugh that follows makes him unsure. He takes another sip.

“That’s the thing. I _should_ be happy _,”_ she raises two air quotes from her fingers, “but I don’t. Rather, Can’t? I… I don’t know. Neutral maybe?”

“Are you sad?”

She shook her head.

“Happy?”

She repeats her action.

“Then what’s wrong?”

Her hand opens, reaching him at arm's length from the balcony. _Hold me please,_ are the words she can’t ever say but he knows her long enough to comply. The calluses of her fingertips, the scars that remain, welcomes him with a simple gesture of a gentle squeeze. 

“Your hands are sweating, but you’re cold. Are you alright?” He palms both of her hands in between. Meeting her frigid skin through the heat of his lips. “Do you want to come over? Take your mind off things?”

“I’m fine Atsumu… It’s just…” she ducks her head in between her shoulders. She exhales once before breathing in, then repeats, before she ruptures out her frustrations through a heavy third sigh. 

He gives her three reassuring squeezes. _It’s alright. I’m here. You don't have to rush._

She returns his gesture. A silent thank you of her own,“...I don’t know what to feel anymore, honestly. It feels like I’m just trying to get by for the sake of living. And I hate that, you know?”

No, he doesn’t. He has his goals. He Lives within the realms of his achievements. Each day is a new day to improve so he uses every opportunity to excel. So to stay in the past… To deny himself from the insatiable hunger of his dreams, he just couldn’t see her world in the same light. It seems impossible to comprehend and the uplifting words he wanted to say dies in his throat because she knows he can’t. Of course, he doesn’t. Everyone is built differently and it doesn’t exclude either two of you.

“Thank you… for letting me vent,” she lets go of his hands before returning to intertwine once more. The heat of his fingers spread to her colder ones, easily settling in between her fingers. “I know it’s hard. I know you can’t relate but…”

Another squeeze. _Take your time._

“...having you here, making me feel at ease. That’s the only feeling I can place a finger on. And I’m satisfied. So thank you for putting up with me- I mean staying.”

She curses at the mindset she tries to shift,” yeah I almost made a slip-up but. Thank you for staying.”

“Anytime (y/n),” he doesn’t let go. But instead, he balances the can of rootbeer on top of her head. “Anytime…”


	7. Lemons and Lilacs [Kuroo Tetsuro]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU for finding who your soulmate is through smell.

Tetsuro’s laundry has a fresh lemon scent. It was a trait he was known for with his business attire when he forgets to wear cologne. Though he doesn’t mind their words, and it was always taken as a compliment.

The fragrance was clean, sharp, and had made people’s heads turn once the citrus smell hit their nose. And more often than not, he could start a conversation when it triggers a memory on a late evening elevator ride up to his condominium. Idle talks were always welcome after a busy day as a promotion agent.

Women would brag about their lemon tea cakes while little kids shared the treats they have in a bakery nearby. One time, a little boy brought him a half slice with his Grandmother in tow. Lemon Man was what he was called. He laughed at the cheery smiles of the kid, smothering him with a head pat and some science fact as well.

It was amazing how an overdose of lemon-scented detergent can give him. He mused in his inclination to science and just spat out knowledge in between.

“It's because of Limonene, kid.”

The boy blinks. He wasn’t familiar with the word.

“You see, limonene is something found in fruits that gives it that zesty smell, you know?” He glances at the floor number. He needed five more floors before he could reach his precious suite, while the boy needed one more over his. “And did you know you just need to add H2O, or water, to the Limonene to produce the lilac scent, crazy right??”

The boy nods, not understanding a word. 

Yet Kuroo doesn't pay attention to him as he continues his chemistry mumblings, “But even if you drench actual lemons in the water you can never have that lilac smell. It's unfair, right? Even when in science—”

The elevator pings and Kuroo steps out. “See you kid. Tell your grandma I liked her lemon muffins, okay?”

“Okay, mister.” the child nods. The Elevator door closes. Tetsuro walks toward his complex with calculated steps.

Alone in his home, after work hours was a usual routine. He’d eat the take out he brought with him. Strip down from his wrinkled suit then ease his muscles in a hot bath. Afterward, he relaxes on the smooth silk fabric of his soft bed. The space he lies in feels bare even when it was intended for a singular occupant. It ticks him, unnerves him, and puts him in a dissatisfied state which means tossing and turning to get that perfect position to sleep.

He crosses his arms over his head, inhaling the scent which follows him in his wake. 

He curses, frustration creeping in his hollow heart. The awareness of his senses reminded him of his faults. He admits that it was his shortcoming for adding a kilogram or more instead of the prescribed five spoonfuls for his laundry the night before.

Kuroo was curious enough to try the method of trial and error. His wandering mind pushed him to an experiment since he wanted to know if it was possible to change the smell of lemons into lilac when mixed in water. 

He added, and he added, and he added, pouring in the remaining contents until he finished the whole bag. Dissatisfied results led him to buy four bags more the night after the first trial.

Even then, the outcome was the same failed result.   
  
Maybe it was his fault it didn’t turn into lilacs. He thinks he mixed in a few tears or two. His bitterness muddled in between the hoarse cries as he drowns the clothes in another session of tests, to place himself closer to his expected result. 

However, none have been close to the endearing aroma.

You always had that lilac smell. And when you left, it seems like you took his favorite scent along with you. He couldn’t recall your sweet cologne. The mixture had manifested into a numbing haze which had thrown his senses into bleak gray instead of violets 

Even when he tried drenched himself with your remaining perfumes. Even when he buys a freshly cut batch from the flower shop, the scent is all the same.

Lemons can’t be lilacs as the dead can’t be brought back to life.

Bitterness will not move him. He will try again tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was inspired by the song "Lemon" by Kenshi Yonezu


	8. His kindness [Aone Takanobu]

There was an unsettling presence. It has been looming over her neck with a deadly glare for a while since she entered the store. Its disgust fills the air with dread, where even the other customers started to be wary for her safety.

But she wasn’t at risk. The intimidation was her norm since it wasn’t intended to be a deadly gaze of malice and bad intention. Aone focused long and hard at the nape of her neck because she was shivering from the frosty weather.  
  
Ever since she complained about the freezing temperature, he had been thinking all this time for the perfect scarf to give to her.  
Would you like cotton? What color would it be? What brand?

All those queries flooded his head as she waited amongst the long line of pastry buyers in a flooded bakery. It could take a very long time before she could reach the register, so he had an ample amount of time to buy something warm.

Then After fifteen minutes of waiting, she had finally escaped the crowded establishment and met up with Aone outside of the shop. He stood there by the pillars and as usual, no soul was brave enough to go near the intimidating boy.

“Sorry I made you wait. These were limited edition so I wanted to share them with you Aone-Kun.” She confessed embarrassingly. In her hands were two pastel tote bags that held two metal containers filled with cream puffs.

He just gave you a curt nod, the usual reply with whatever it is you had said to him. He was a reserved man of speech, after all.

“I even bought you this hot cheese bread since it suites the cold weather don’t you think. I mean you might be shivering even with the thick coat s- OH MY GOODNESS THOSE GLOVES ARE SO CUTE.” You gushed, holding his giant hand in between your shivering fingers. “You didn’t have them earlier. Did you carry them all this time?”

“I did.” He replied. But your heart raced when he spoke to you even when it was only two words.

“I even got you a pair since you were cold too. So hold still for a moment.“ Slowly, he fixed the warm glove so that it would fit your digits in a snuggly manner. He was thankful that he had found you the perfect size since the scarf he initially wanted to buy was too pricy, so he had to settle for something cheaper yet provided you an ample warmth.

But as he was busy putting over gloves at your shivering hands, you were flabbergasted with his gifts and the number of words he had spoken.

You swore you were about to faint when he draped his winter jacket over you.


	9. favour returned [Aone Takanobu]

aone has always been a hard worker.

his palms turned sturdy over the years of volleyball training, that no amount of pain was enough to bring out a reaction from him. for example, blocking powerful blows from the opposing team was like second nature. the hurt was a part of the practice, and nothing lasts long enough to remain as a permanent injury.

his game face was similar to his average expressions, too. when you were always there to help him, either with tape or administer first aid to his swollen hands, he remained emotionless. the fact that he didn’t have any eyebrows didn’t help you either.

but one thing was for sure, his attention was focused on your skillful digits when his treatments needed to be redone. it felt like a routine, you had a personal kit ready, and aone placed his hand over yours if he needed some patching up.

it was endearing. his actions were like a shiba inu that needed immediate attention, which you were always happy to deliver. however today, there was a problem with your supplies since the usual white tape has been used up and all you had were the mini-bandages.

“i hope you won’t mind if these were all that i can offer, aone-kun,” your hands peel off the animal-shaped bandage over his swollen callouses. “it might be childish and you might be embarrassed but please bear with it until i can find you a more suitable tape.”

he gave a curt nod.

if it works, then it works, you assumed to be his train of thought as you continued to assault his manliness with an array of cute pastel bandages. he didn’t show any resistance even as the fifth baby pink appendage wrapped around his thumb, which was good.

contrary to his intimidating demeanor, his personality was rather– dare you to say– soft. it might not work for some, but it suits him in a very truthful heartfelt endearing way.

as you tilted your chin to the side, careful to make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him through the corner of your eye, he was red. the burning color over his cheeks matched the scarlet shade of his palms. his complexion darkens, as you continue the medication.

you let out a giggle, He might not be so stoic after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lower case for aesthetics.


End file.
